Shall I weave another tale?
I'll just tell you. This one ends happily.
Or maybe I'll suffice it to say that this time Charlotte got relocated to the back patio. I hope she found it to her liking, what with most of the bugs hanging out there and all. I think she was just a little confused about her true place in life. Luckily for her she had a guiding hand that brought her back to where she belongs.
Perhaps someone will come along, place a glass over my head and a firm piece of paper under my rear and gently guide me to a newly and better suited locale? So much for metaphors. Anyone else thinking airplane to France? Airplanes are pretty suffocating and I'm convinced I was really born in France and somehow got way off course.
It is funny though, that with so many other little moments in every day life that I've managed to pick stories about spiders twice already. They obviously inspire something within. But, why do I feel the need to draw parallel lines to them? Perhaps that's where this blog ends and the psychoanalysis begins...
...but really, who doesn't want to get swept off of their feet and carried away to somewhere new and and yet strangely and nostalgically familiar? A show of hands?